Where the Moon Howls
by Coru
Summary: Rose and the Ninth Doctor end up in Scotland and face a werewolf, warrior monks and a rather irritable monarch. Part of 'A Man Who Wasn't There', Alt!Series 2. Follows 'All Human Ills' and the first Tardisode
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, BBC owns it all.  
AN: Eternal gratitude to Bonnie for beta reading and fashion commentary :-D**  
**

* * *

"November 28th, 1969! Best concert of the twentieth century, been meanin' to go for years!"

The Doctor was spinning dials and pulling levers with uncommon enthusiasm. Amber lights of indeterminate origin glinted off of a wide black disc in his hand.

"Oi! Rose! Aren't you ready yet?"

"Hold on!" The girl in question was not in the console room, but her voice floated down the hall nonetheless. "Really though, the Rolling Stones? I mean, whole of time and space and we go see a band that's still touring?"

"You can't go see the Stones in the twenty-first century!" He seemed a bit offended at the idea. "Might toss you home for that sort of blasphemy."

"Alright, alright," her voice was getting closer. "Will this work?"

He glanced up, and his expression froze. There was a long pause before he shook his head and shrugged. "You'll do."

She frowned and looked down, hands on her hips. Not exactly her normal style, but she was attempting to fit in; she thought she looked quite nice – even if the skirt was a bit short and the fabric a bit clingy. She'd found the paisley mini-dress on the rack labelled for Venus in the four hundred and twenty-third century, but it looked rather like something from her aunt Judy's old school photos. "Why? What's wrong with it?"

"Too cytherean," he replied, not looking at her again as he placed the record into a previously unseen turntable in the belly of the console. "You sure about those boots?"

"You'd be amazed what you can accomplish in a good pair of go-go boots," Rose replied, sauntering over to the console. "What's cytherean?"

"'Of Venus'."

"Right, 'course you can't just say 'too Venus-y'," she rolled her eyes and adjusted the silk scarf that was currently serving as a headband. "When did we get a record player then?"

"Always had it! Don't listen to CDs on my ship, there's nothin' compares to vinyl," he hit a button on the console and the opening bars of '_Honky Tonk Woman_' began to flow through the room. He looked up at her and smirked, folding his arms across his chest.

"Oi, is that a hint?" She narrowed her eyes. He grinned and moved toward her; she frowned suspiciously and took a step back. "What?"

He grabbed her hands and pulled her close...then immediately pushed her away, spinning her quickly in time to the music. She laughed as she caught on, attempting to keep up with was what not quite a line dance and not quite anything else either. He twirled her around the console a few times, then suddenly released her and grabbed a rubber mallet from beside the console.

She smiled; whatever purpose hitting the console actually served she figured she would never know, but he was managing to do it with perfect rhythm. The TARDIS stopped; he stopped; Rose let go of the rail...and they were both flung against the floor with a bang.

It was several moments before either one could stop laughing for long enough to pull themselves off the grating. Naturally it was the Doctor who first recovered; he glanced quickly over her and, seeing no apparent injuries, jumped to his feet.

"Right, Rose Tyler! 1969," he pulled her up after him. "Boris Karloff dies, Jennifer Lopez is born – hardly fair trade, that; Woodstock! And before you ask, no, we're not goin' there."

"Why not?" She smirked, waiting for a good answer.

"First off 'cause I've already been, second 'cause it was dead dull, nothin' happens except the invention of a few new drug combinations and a whole lot of orgies." He shook his finger at her, as if she were somehow responsible for the actions of her elders. "Altamont – now that's a concert worth goin' to. Hell's Angels, fist fights, lots of people runnin' round, all half mad."

Rose blinked a few times. The Doctor had used the word 'orgies', it seemed the universe ought to implode shortly. "Right, so, we're going to Altamont?"

"Don't be daft," he shot her a glance of pure exasperation. "We're going to Madison Square Garden. See Janis Joplin – fantastic lady, Janis; Ike and Tina Turner before the divorce," he flung open the door and stepped out, pulling Rose with him. "Chuck Berry," he finished with markedly less enthusiasm. The sound of several guns cocking reached his generous ears, and he raised his arms casually. "Not 1969 then."

"You will explain your presence, sir, and the nakedness of this girl," one of the soldiers, a captain, addressed them from horseback. Rose glanced down at her outfit with a bit of a pout, but held her hands up as well as the soldier cocked his pistol.

The Doctor grinned. "Is this Scotland?" His Northern accent thickened just a bit and he shot a pleased glance at Rose.

"How could you be ignorant of that?"

"One too many pints last night?" He suggested hopefully, smiling wider. Rose elbowed him. "Oh, uh, head trauma – bit confused, me. I was chasin' this...wee naked child," that earned him another glare. "Fell, don't remember a thing after that."

"And you, girl?"

"Just, um," she shrugged. "Runnin' from this daft old man?"

"Oi!"

"Will you identify yourself, sir?" The captain seemed to be losing patience.

"Ah. Right," he glanced at Rose. "I'm Doctor, ah, James McCrimmon. I have my credentials, if you want." He gestured to his jacket and the captain nodded as the Doctor reached into his rather fantastic pockets to retrieve a small flap of leather containing a blank sheet of slightly psychic paper. He held it up to the Captain's inspection, still grinning madly. "See, says there, got a Doctorate from University of Aberdeen."

"Let them approach," a stern and regal voice dragged their attention to the processional beyond the officers. The Doctor shifted, his eyes lighting up.

"I don't think that's wise, Ma'am," the captain frowned, narrowing his eyes at the Doctor – who in turn attempted to look innocent and only made himself look worse for the trying.

"Let them approach," even more imperious in tone. The Doctor raised his eyebrows in question, tilting his head toward the carriage. The captain had no choice but to sigh and allow them to pass.

"You will approach the carriage; and show all due deference," he commanded severely.

The Doctor nodded seriously, but a grin once again nearly split his face in half as they approached and the carriage door opened. An older woman in black silk and lace sat serenely inside, watching them with thinly veiled interest and a smile that was only slightly condescending.

"Rose," the Doctor nodded toward the coach. "Her Majesty, Queen Victoria; Empress of India and Defender of the Faith."

Rose swallowed hard and attempted an awkward curtsy, tugging on the very, very short hem of her dress – suddenly wondering why she hadn't just gone with bell-bottoms instead. "Rose Tyler, Ma'am," she greeted, tittering nervously. "And my apologies, for bein' so naked."

"I've had five daughters. It is nothing to me," she dismissed Rose with those words and her eyes locked upon the Time Lord. "But you, Doctor, show me these credentials."

The Doctor obliged, once again extending his psychic paper with a smile.

"Why didn't you say so immediately? It states clearly here that you have been appointed by the Lord Provost as my protector!"

"Does it now?" He sounded surprised for half a moment. "'Course it does, protector, that's me!" He paused for a moment, glancing ahead at the countryside. "Bein' such, you won't mind me askin', why's Your Majesty not travellin' by train?"

"A tree on the line," she pursed her lips.

He furrowed his brow. "Accident?"

"I am the Queen of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland. Everything around me tends to be planned."

"Assassination attempt then?"

"What, seriously?" Rose glanced between them. "There's people out to kill ya?"

"I'm quite used to staring down the barrel of a gun," the monarch replied, her eyes fairly sparking with energy.

"Sir Robert MacLeish lives but ten miles hence," the captain rejoined the conversation then, gesturing along the their path. "We'll send word ahead, he'll shelter us for tonight, then we can reach Balmoral tomorrow."

Victoria smirked. "This Doctor and his...wee naked child will come with us."

"Yes, Ma'am," he nodded. "We'd better get moving; it's almost nightfall."

"Indeed," she seemed pleased by the fact, enthused even. "And there are stories of wolves in these parts. Fanciful tales intended to scare the children. But good for the blood, I think." She turned her head sharply, her voice rising for her servants. "Drive on!"

The coach moved on quickly, leaving the two travellers to walk behind. The Doctor reached for Rose's hand, letting their fingers link as they ambled along the path.

"It's funny, though," Rose thought aloud, swinging their joined arms slightly. "'Cause you say 'assassination' and you just think of Kennedy and stuff. Not her."

"Oh, it's been tried half a dozen times by now. Brave lady, her," he grinned down at her, eyes wide. "But you know what?"

She waited, smiling back at him.

"We just met Queen Victoria! One of the best bits of history, right in front of us!"

"I know!" Rose hopped a few steps. "Just...sittin' there, big as life!"

"Might be worth missin' the Stones for this," he suggested with a smile. "What d'you think?"

"That was your idea, remember?" She grinned. "Oh, I can't believe it! I want her to say 'we are _not_ amused'," her voice took on a faux upper crust accent.

"Oh, don't do that," he made a face. "Makes you sound like Cassandra."

"What, when I talk posh?" She tilted her head, her enthusiasm dropping down a bit. "Y'know, it's funny, I sort of remember what she did but it's like I was drunk or something. All fuzzy 'round the edges."

"Yeah, well," he shifted awkwardly. "No point is there? Best forget about it."

"Guess so," she glanced up at the carriage and the path ahead. "So, ten miles? Really?"

"Told ya not to wear the boots," his tone was smug.

"Oh, shut up."

* * *

The Torchwood House was a tall, foreboding sort of place. Vines crawled along slightly discoloured brick, and a tall stone cross stood guard near the entrance.

"Blimey, it looks like somethin' out of an Anne Rice novel," Rose muttered, staring up at the dark manor. The Doctor shot her a surprised glance, to which she shrugged. "I do read y'know."

"Somethin' other than OK! Magazine?" He smirked at her.

"You're gonna get a smack, you keep that up," she warned, waving a finger at him. He just tugged on said finger and pulled her into the courtyard after the royal carriage.

A nobleman stood in the doorway to the house, his posture was anxious but he wore a smile nonetheless.

The queen herself was emerging from the coach, her face brightening as she stood in the cool air. "Sir Robert," she greeted fondly. "My apologies for the emergency. And, how is Lady Isobel?"

Sir Robert shifted hesitantly. "She's... indisposed, I'm afraid – she's gone to Edinburgh for the season. And she's taken the cook with her – the kitchens are barely stocked... I wouldn't blame Your Majesty if you wanted to ride on."

The Doctor frowned slightly, folding his arms and tilting his head at the lord. "Not in the mood for a visit?" He suggested.

"No, of course, Her Majesty is always welcome in my home," Sir Robert stumbled over himself a bit. "I'm worried only for your comfort, Ma'am."

Victoria shook her head slightly. "Oh, not at all! And, I've had quite enough carriage exercise," she looked up, smiling slightly. "This is... charming, if rustic. It's my first visit to this house. My late husband spoke of it often. The Torchwood Estate. Now, shall we go inside?"

Sir Robert hesitated, but the queen ignored him.

"And please excuse the naked girl."

"Think the moors went to her head," the Doctor smirked. "Gone a bit feral. Shoulda gone with my first instinct and got a dog instead, but she was going for cheap and I couldn't resist."

"You couldn't keep a goldfish alive," Rose muttered. "He thinks he's funny, but I'm so not amused." She glanced pointedly at the monarch, while the Doctor snickered a bit behind her. "What do you think, Ma'am?"

"It hardly matters," Victoria pursed her lips. "Shall we proceed?"

"Don't annoy the royalty," the Doctor murmured in Rose's ear as the queen and Sir Robert passed into the house. "I'm a bit fond of my head, don't want it chopped off."

"Alright," Rose sulked a bit. "I still want her to say it."

"Well stop bein' so amusin' and she might just," he nudged her shoulder and grinned. Rose rolled her eyes.

"Makerson and Ramsey, you will escort the Property. Hurry up," the captain eyed the time travellers warily. The soldiers in question sounded their agreement and stepped forward, one of them carefully carrying a small wooden box.

The Doctor craned his neck, peering at it. "What's that, then?" He glanced to the captain curiously.

"Property of the Crown," he replied firmly. "You will dismiss any further thoughts, sir."

"_That's_ easer said than done," the Doctor muttered to Rose, who sniggered. He offered her his arm with a smile and the two continued inside – being led quickly to the observatory after Victoria and her entourage.

The queen herself was standing just inside, staring at what looked to be a great telescope.

"This, I take it, is the famous Endeavour," she stated, more than asked.

"My father's work," Sir Robert replied quietly. "Built by hand in his final years. Became something of an obsession -- he spent his money on this rather than caring for the house or himself."

The Doctor just shook his head in mild amazement. "Well spent," he said, half to himself. "That's a thing o' beauty." He strode forward, looking up through the lenses. "Where'd he get the plans?"

"Oh, I know nothing about it," Sir Robert shrugged. "To be honest, most of us thought him a little... shall we say, eccentric."

The Doctor nodded absently, poking at the machine. "It's a fine line there, sometimes you wobble over." He grinned to himself. "Generally like to stay on the side of brilliance, me."

"I wish now I'd spent more time with him," he sighed, regretfully. "And listened to his stories."

"Look, Rose!" The Doctor pointed up suddenly, dragging his companion over and ignoring the nobility. "See the prisms? Way too many. He must've been half mad, coulda built a whole 'nother telescope with those. More, if he didn't care to get a good look at Pluto." He straightened, smiling again. "Still, thing o' beauty."

Rose shook her head, sniggering a bit to herself. The Doctor pointedly ignored her.

"The imagination of it should be applauded," Victoria added, her expression softening.

"That it should," he nodded.

"Thought you might disapprove, Your Majesty. Stargazing. Isn't that a bit fanciful?" Rose suggested eagerly. The Doctor rolled his eyes and chuckled softly. She elbowed him and continued. "It's not very...amusing. Is it?"

"This device surveys the infinite work of God," Victoria looked rather offended. "What could be finer? Sir Robert's father was an example to us all. A polymath. Steeped in astronomy and sciences, yet equally well versed in folklore and fairy tales."

"The important thing is knowin' the one from the other," the Doctor interjected quickly. "Sir Robert's father seemed to get a bit confused on that note."

"My late husband thought him brilliant," the monarch replied, rather severely. "They became quite close. Prince Albert himself was acquainted with many rural superstitions; coming as he did from Saxe Coburg."

Rose frowned, glancing curiously at the Doctor. "Wasn't he English?" She whispered.

"Nope, Bavarian," he rolled his eyes and ignored her glare. "Do they even teach history in England any more?"

"Sorry, must have missed 'racial background of the Prince Consorts day'," she hissed.

Victoria cleared her throat, her eyes narrowing briefly. "As I was saying," she paused, pursing her lips. The time travellers looked guilty, and said nothing. "My late husband found whimsical tales fascinating; when he was told about the local wolf, he was transported."

"What's this wolf story?" The Doctor interrupted again.

"Just a legend," Sir Robert hedged.

"Oh, I'm a big fan of legends meself," the Doctor wore a sudden and dopey grin.

Sir Robert exchanged glances with the queen. "A...fan?" He questioned after a moment.

His face fell. "Not that again," the Doctor muttered to himself.

"You're worse than me about lingo," Rose hissed. "He likes it," she informed the nobles. "A lot. A whole lot, s'what he meant."

"Well," Sir Robert hesitated. "It's said that -"

They were startled by a sudden interruption; one of the servants spoke up, suggesting that the group should retire. The Doctor and Rose exchanged curious glances – noting not only the strange behaviour of a 'lower' citizen, but the manner in which Sir Robert accepted the suggestion.

"Yes, and then supper," the monarch added. "And," the slightest sneer accompanied her words. "Could we find some clothes for Miss Tyler? I am tired of nakedness."

"Well, I'm sorry," Rose mumbled, rubbing her arms through the jersey knit sleeves. "It's not all fun an' games for me either."

"Yes, Ma'am," Sir Robert replied quickly. "I'm sure I can find a servant's dress for her."

"Servant's dress?" Rose glanced at the Doctor and narrowed her eyes when he studiously looked not-in-her-direction. "I'm not his -"

"Fantastic," the Doctor interrupted, ignoring Rose's outrage. "That'll do just fine."

"Yes," Victoria nodded. "Then we shall dine at seven, and have more talk of this wolf. After all...there is a full moon tonight."

Sir Robert sagged further, but he nodded and smiled. "So there is, Ma'am."

* * *

The Doctor followed cheerfully as one of the bald servants led Rose to a small, sparse bedroom and rather roughly handed her a coarse black gown.

"This will fit," he informed her, a bit rudely, before leaving the pair alone.

The Doctor leaned against the wall, sniggering as she held up the well-worn dress and made a rather awful face. "Don't like it?"

She raised her eyebrows, her voice taking on a note of surprise. "What! Doctor McCrimmon, Lord Protector, deigns to speak to the feral servant girl! What a scandal."

"What've I told you about sulkin'?"

"You," she put the dress on the bed and waved a finger at him. "Should be busy apologizin'."

"Oh, it was just a joke," he folded his arms across his chest. "Gonna get stroppy over a joke?"

"Alright, it was funny until they _believed_ you," Rose narrowed her eyes. "Why's everyone always got to think I'm a servant or a prostitute 'round you?"

"Can't say, but I'd think it works out," he quirked an eyebrow at her. "Since I'm the one they usually try to kill straight off."

"Leavin' me time to save you," Rose rolled her eyes, but grinned a little anyway. "How'd you ever stay alive before me?"

"Oh, blind luck," he grinned back. "Now you get yourself decent and come downstairs before they have you eat in the kitchen."

She rolled her eyes and picked up the dress again, holding it up distastefully. "You owe me," she said after a short pause, glaring over her shoulder. "You _so_ owe me."

"Go on, hurry up!" He shot her one more cheeky grin before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

"Gonna kill him," she muttered to herself, squirming out of her hippie-wear and sorting through the Victorian underpinnings. Her vast experience with strange wardrobes lead her to make quick work of the rough garments, though she steadfastly refused to wear the apron that had been tied with it. Instead she pulled the scarf from her hair and knotted it loosely around her neck. The bit of pale pink brightened it considerably, in her opinion.

The fact that she hadn't been provided with shoes led to an interesting fashion decision, but given the Victorian opinion on ankles she settled that it was safer to have them covered in brown pleather than risk any more references to 'nakedness'.

It was a few minutes later, after she left the small bedchamber, that she realized her host had been rather vague in his descriptions of the manor. Which in turn meant that after passing down at least two identical hallways, and one that she thought vaguely might have been a repetition of the first, she was completely lost.

The Doctor was prone to simply opening doors and hoping one of them led the direction he wanted, and she would never have hesitated to follow him – but she felt a bit more awkward doing so by herself. Any one of them might be a bedroom or worse; she didn't think they had indoor plumbing yet in this age but she was sure they had something that passed for a loo anyway. The last thing she wanted was to interrupt something like _that_, given that she had already caused enough irritation in Queen Victoria. "I'm so not amused," she muttered, her lips twitching into a small smile despite herself.

She stopped by a window and tried to orient herself again. She could at least narrow down which wing she'd wandered into; from there it should be easy and _why _were all the soldiers lying down?

Rose went pale and pushed it open, leaning into the courtyard. "Oi, you there!" She called down, waiting for a response. She got none. "Not good," she hissed, spotting more unconscious guards at the opposite end. She shuffled back and picked up her skirt, preparing for a good run – if nothing else, she'd garner attention that way.

One of the man servants stood at the end of the hall, his eyes locked solidly on hers. She hesitated, glancing at the still-open window. "I think somethin's wrong downstairs," she said, backing away from him slightly. "The soldiers -"

"They have been taken care of," he replied, his voice oddly flat.

"Okay," Rose tried not to sound panicky, and thought she might almost be succeeding. Until she felt an arm around her waist and another pressing a sweet smelling cloth against her nose. The hall began to blur at the edges; there was a hint of regret in the servants eyes as he approached and she felt herself growing heavy as her captors lifted her into their arms.

A soft groan of protest escaped her, before at last the world went dark.

* * *

Sir Robert's library was extensive, and the Doctor was entirely pleased by it. He ought to have gone straight for the man himself, or the queen perhaps, or really anyone who might explain the odd behaviour that was going around...but it was really a lovely library.

He debated keeping his dignity and sitting calmly in front of the fire – then he spotted a first edition of _Frankenstein_ and couldn't hold back an entirely undignified "OOH!" as he pulled it down.

"Classic really, pity no one actually reads it since they made a film," he muttered to himself, thumbing through the pages. He, of course, had his own copy that was nearly identical to this one – but there was an endless fascination in him for the things that survived the slow path. He placed it rather reverently back on the shelf and drifted his long fingers over the spines beside it. "_The Wolf-Leader_," he read aloud. "_The Legend of Sleepy Hollow_, _The Vampyre_; this bloke really does like the supernatural."

"My father's passion," Sir Robert acknowledged, shifting awkwardly near the door . "Doctor McCrimmon -"

The Doctor shook his head. "Just the Doctor, thanks," he interrupted. He glanced at the walls with a slight grimace. "Bet he woulda been a Trekkie if he was born a century later. Did he always have this obsession?"

"I beg your pardon?" Sir Robert shook his head. "No, not until late in life, after – well, late. Doctor, I must request that you remain with Her Majesty's party," he hesitated and looked at the door again, a worried frown crossing his countenance. "It's best you proceed to the dining room."

The Doctor straightened, following the nobleman's uneasy gaze. "Is somethin' wrong?"

"No," he forced an awkward chuckle. "I'm only a bit...on edge, what with the state of the house. I've not prepared for visitors."

"Ah," the Doctor grinned suddenly. "Alright then, glad to hear it."

"Yes, and really, if you don't mind, Doctor -" the Doctor held up a hand, cutting Sir Robert off mid-sentence. "I'm sorry?"

"Did you hear that?" He moved closer to the door, his brow furrowed slightly.

"No," the other man looks genuinely confused. "What did you hear?"

"Not sure. Good hearin' though, me; it was somethin'," the Doctor peered into the hall. "Back in a mo'; got a trouble-happy blonde to check on."

If he'd paid further mind to the Lord of the manor, he might have seen the terror in his eyes, or the broken way he sank to the settee. Unfortunately, the Doctor had shifted his attention elsewhere, and Sir Robert's telling attitude went unnoticed.

The Doctor wandered back the way he'd come, shoving his hands deep in the pockets of his leather jacket. He wasn't exactly _hurrying_ through the halls; no, he would classify his pace as a 'purposeful meander' at best, but he pulled out the sonic screwdriver regardless. The weight of it in his palm was comforting – not that he needed it.

One of the doors along the way was slightly ajar; there was a brief moment in which the Doctor pretended to be the sort of person capable of walking past an open door without peering in – but he failed. That was one lie he couldn't even tell himself.

It was dark in the room, no light save the faintest hints of setting sun through the far window. He thumbed on the 'torch' setting of his rather fantastic multi-tool and directed it through the shadows. There was nothing out of place, and he might have simply moved on in his quest...had she not moved.

He crossed the room and flung open the wardrobe, stopping in surprise when he spotted a tear-streaked young maid, cowering among the gowns.

"Oh," he said, rather dumbly. He smiled and held up his screwdriver-free hand. "Hello!"

The girl shook her head, her dark eyes widening fearfully.

"Oh, I'm nothin' to be scared of," he informed her jovially. "I'm here to help. I'm the Doctor."

"It's not safe," her voice hitched and she leaned forward earnestly. "Please, sir, you must hide."

He raised his eyebrows, but his smile didn't falter. "Not the hiding sort. What isn't safe?" He extended his hand, helping the girl to her feet.

She looked around him to the open door, a slight whimper escaping her. "Them," she breathed. "They – they came through the house; they took the Steward and the Master. And my Lady."

"Ah," the Doctor nodded. "Right. What's your name?"

She hesitated, chewing her bottom lip. "Flora," she answered finally.

"Right then, Flora," his tone darkened just a bit. "We're going to find my companion, then I'll get this all sorted, alright? Not to worry. Just come with me and you'll be safe."

She nodded slowly, meeting his gaze for the first time. "Y-yes, sir," she stammered.

He grinned again, though his eyes remained thunderous. He turned on his heel and this time he entered the hall at a dead run.

There was a short pause at a simple door by the back staircase; a brief knock and then investigation of the silence. The chamber was empty; that it had ever been occupied was evidenced only by the pale pink garment strewn across the bed.

The Doctor chose not to waste energy calming himself before descending the stairs, as quickly as his long legs allowed and paying no heed to the frightened maid following him. It was a matter of moments to reach the dining room, and no longer than that to realize the marked absence of hearty blonde among the party at supper.

"Right then," he clenched his fists and levelled his gaze at Sir Robert. "You want your secrets? That's just too bad. Where have they taken Rose?"

The nobleman paled and looked helplessly toward one of his servants, the bald man standing rapt at the window. "I don't know what you're talking about," he tried.

"You do not want to lie to me," his voice was low and very calm. "Where is she?"

"I -" his mask shattered. "I'm so sorry, Your Majesty, but they took my wife!"

Captain Reynolds jumped to his feet, immediately assisting the queen away from the table.

"What is the meaning of this?" Victoria gasped, stepping away quickly.

"Explain yourself, Sir Robert!" The captain demanded, pulling out his pistol and glancing between the others warily.

"The Wolf, 'tis no local superstition, Ma'am, but God's truth!" Sir Robert shot her a tortured glance. "A creature worshipped by the Brethren at the Glen of Saint Catherine; they've brought it here!" He pointed to the servant. They hadn't noticed while absorbed in their drama, but his lips were working silently, a single phrase over and over. His voice grew, a whisper to a chant.

"Lupus deus est."

The Doctor's fragile control snapped; he found himself staring down into the cool eyes of the monk. "_What have you done with Rose?!_"


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, BBC owns it all.  
AN: Eternal gratitude to Bonnie for beta reading and fashion commentary :-D**  
**

* * *

Her head was resting on something soft, and small, gentle hands stroked her brow.

She groaned as she woke, but furtive fingers pressed against her lips.

"Shh," a woman's voice murmured tearfully. "You mustn't make a sound."

Rose blinked, winced against the faint light and slowly sat up, staring at the lovely noblewoman whose lap she had so recently been using as a pillow. "What?" She managed, finally.

"They said if we scream or shout, then he will slaughter us," the woman's frightened gaze was focused beyond Rose, to the other end of the room.

She gradually became aware of the others in the cellar, all chained together, with eyes locked in terror behind her. She took a deep breath and turned. There was a cage in the darkness of the far corner, and a man in a dark robe curled at it's centre. She frowned. "But...he's in a cage. He's a prisoner, same as us."

"He is _nothing_ like us," the Lady corrected, shrinking back. "That creature is not mortal."

A low chuckle emerged from the enclosure, and the man within it rocked back. Eyelids fluttered, then shot open to reveal the inky pitch of inhuman irises.

Rose slowly drew to her feet, inching forward.

"_Don't_," the Lady whispered, her voice catching. "Don't, child."

"Who are you?" Rose didn't take her eyes from the creature.

"Don't enrage him," one of the men whispered harshly.

"Where are you from?" Rose continued to move cautiously toward the cage. "You're not from Earth, what planet are you from?"

The creature tilted its head and peered at her. "Ooh..._intelligence_," it whispered.

"Where were you born?" She tried a different angle, trying to remember the sort of things the Doctor tended to say in these situations.

"This body?" It chuckled again. "Ten miles away. A weakling, heartsick boy; stolen away at night by the brethren for my cultivation. I carved out his soul and sat in his heart."

Rose shivered but didn't look away. "Alright," her eyes hardened. "The body's human...but what about you? The thing inside?"

"So far from home," the voice was thready and pained.

"If you wanna get back home, we can help," she offered, clenching her fists around her chains.

"Why would I leave this place? A world of industry, of workforce and warfare. I could turn it to such purpose."

"How would you do that?" Rose scowled. "You can't take over the whole world from _Scotland_."

"I would migrate into the Holy Monarch," it hissed.

"What, you mean Queen Victoria?"

"With one bite, I would pass into her blood...and then it begins. The Empire of the Wolf!" the creature leapt for the bars, wrapping its human fingers around metal. "You offer help? You're melting from the inside," it let out a dark laugh. "Little girl, lost in the woods."

"I don't know what you're on about," Rose stepped back. "I'm not _melting_."

"There's something of the wolf about you," it whispered. "You burn like the sun, but all I require is the _moon_." It pressed its face against the bars. "Big, bad..._wolf_," its voice turned sing-song and its laughter followed her as Rose stumbled back to the relative comfort of the others.

"I warned you, miss," the Lady murmured, embracing the younger woman gently. "It will destroy us all."

Rose shivered and stared at her hands, twisted in the voluminous servant's skirts. "It won't get the chance," she said finally, wrapping her hands around the chains again. "It's gonna kill us anyway? Well we're not gonna sit here and wait for it. Come on, get up, pull!"

* * *

"They took them to the cellar!" Sir Robert was running as fast as he could, but as soon as he pointed in the direction of the makeshift prison the Doctor outstripped him by far.

It seemed as if there were an endless supply of strange corridors, but it didn't take them long to reach a plain wooden door – and only half a heartbeat longer for them to kick it open.

"Where the _hell_ have you been?"

The Doctor released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. That voice had greeted him, and that voice was angry! Angry meant alive! He was grinning even before he turned to face the danger – and for a moment merely blinked at it.

"_Blimey_," he whispered, eyes wide. He watched as the beast struggled to break the bars of its cage...and quite quickly realized that watching this particular process was probably a bad idea. He hustled the others out of the room and sealed the door behind them.

Inside the cellar, the wolf howled.

* * *

The servants – the proper ones, all of whom had actually been hired by Sir Robert at some point – were quickly preparing to fight the creature. The women, led by Lady Isobel, had run to escape while the men armed themselves.

The Doctor for his part was busy thinking, and attempting to remove the manacles from Rose's wrist at the same time. "There're thousands of species from any number of worlds who rely on light for energy. I hate rust, why can't anyone take care of their equipment any more?" He opined quietly, adjusting the sonic screwdriver settings. "Did it say what it was after?"

"Queen, the Crown, the throne – you name it," Rose shrugged. "Can't you narrow it down at all, figure out how to stop it?"

"Nope, too many variables," he let out a slight whoop as he undid the chains. "This one's mutated anyway, too many years on Earth with too little energy. Probably got six moons on its home planet."

"Doctor, it said -" there was a thumping from outside the room and he held up a hand to silence her. He crossed the room quickly, and then cautiously stepped into the hall.

The creature was at the opposite end of the corridor; he could smell its breath even at that distance, and for a moment they simply stared at one another. The beast moved forward and the spell was broken – the Doctor darted back inside and grabbed Rose's hand, once again pulling her away from the beast.

He paused behind a line of armed men, shaking his head. "The guns aren't good enough! Once you've distracted it you have to run, just follow me!" He didn't wait to see if they listened, only making sure that his grip on Rose didn't falter as they ran up the back stairs.

"Sir Robert!" Queen Victoria's voice reached them before she came into view, rapidly descending from the upper floors. "What's happening? I heard such terrible noises."

"Your Majesty, we've got to get out," Sir Robert bowed his head nervously. "But what of Father Angelo, is he still here?"

"Captain Reynolds disposed of him," she replied, pursing her lips. "Now -"

"Door's boarded shut," the Doctor said suddenly; Rose hadn't even noticed him wander out of the room. She inclined her head toward him and he shook his head. "From the outside, screwdriver's no good through wood. Ever climb out a window, Your Majesty?"

Victoria looked rather shocked, but followed as he led them to another room.

Although Sir Robert kindly offered to go first and assist the others, his attempt was rather aborted by the sudden gunfire aimed at their window. The Doctor narrowed his eyes, peering down at the monks surrounding the house.

"Well," he shrugged. "The night just got a bit more interestin'."

"Do they know who I am?" The monarch sounded rather offended.

"Yeah, that's why they want ya. The wolf's lined you up for a... a biting," Rose answered, chewing her bottom lip.

"Now, stop this talk. There can't be an actual wolf," Victoria's tone was firm.

"Bloody thick," the Doctor muttered, earning himself a sharp look from Rose. A howl echoed through the house, jolting the small party to their feet. "Ah."

"What do we do?" Rose sounded a bit panicky – but he supposed it was only fair, it had been a long day...and night.

He grinned at her. "What we always do!"

"Run?" She suggested, her tongue just peeking out behind her smile. "An' that's it, that's your whole plan?"

"Unless you've got silver bullets in that bodice?" He waited a moment for her to shake her head in the negative, and then turned to the queen. "Your Majesty, I hope you're wearin' comfortable shoes."

"What?" Victoria was once again shocked and confused. With no further explanation, he took her arm and pulled her, at top speed, up the stairs.

A sudden crash from behind drove them forward, he pushed them yet faster up stairs, down halls and still – still it gained. He pushed Queen Victoria toward Sir Robert and dropped to the back of the group, preparing to shove himself between the beast and the others – _for half a heartbeat he saw Rose stumbling; she recovered and ducked around a corner_ – but then someone else was suddenly beside him, a gun was fired and the beast went tearing away in the opposite direction.

The soldier was panting as he joined them, though he quickly fell to reloading his weapon. "I'll take this position and hold it. You keep moving, for God's sake!" His eyes slid to the queen. "Your Majesty, I went to look for the property. It was taken; the chest was empty."

She shook her head. "I have it," she informed him quietly. "It's safe."

"Then remove yourself, Ma'am. Doctor, you stand as Her Majesty's Protector," he cocked his pistol, eyes dark. "And you, Sir Robert, you're a traitor to the crown."

"Very good, recriminations – _fantastic_ time for it," the Doctor's expression was flat. "You know you can't stop that thing with bullets."

"I can buy you time," the captain took a deep breath. "Now run!" There was no hesitation from the nobles – the queen and Sir Robert were already running down the hall as fast as they could.

The Doctor met his eyes for a brief moment, then nodded shortly. He sprinted after them, trying not to think about the gunshots cracking through the air behind him...and then not thinking about the screams that followed.

"Right then, we'll -" the Doctor stopped and counted the people in the room. He spun around and burst into motion – Rose had frozen just outside the entrance to the library, and the wolf was bearing down on her. He had an arm around her waist as he hauled her to relative safety. He took a deep breath and released her, turning quickly to Sir Robert. "We've got to block the door, pick up anything that's heavy an' can be moved!"

They moved quickly, utilizing every piece of furniture that their combined strengths could move to barricade themselves in. On the other side, the wolf howled but made no attempt to force its way through the doors.

"What's it waitin' on?" Rose whispered fiercely.

"Bit of hush, please!" The Doctor held up a hand, leaning over their blockade. "There," he muttered, pressing his ear against the door. He closed his eyes.

He opened his eyes and stepped away, following faint creaking along the wall. Rose opened her mouth but her held up a hand, and she bit her lip instead.

"Are there any other doors?" The Doctor murmured as he passed Sir Robert.

"No," he frowned, then his eyes widened. "Yes!" They dashed across the room, adding a fresh pile of debris to the far wall.

Rose hushed them both, standing in the centre of the room. "It's not trying to break it, why isn't it?"

"Somethin' is stoppin' it," the Doctor glanced around. "Somethin' in here, it doesn't make sense. Rose," he grabbed her shoulders a bit too firmly. "Did it say anything else when you were with it? It wants the Queen, what else did it say?"

She bit the inside of her lip and glanced to the others nervously. "It...it didn't really say anything," she lied. "Just nattered on about the moon."

"Rose."

"Nothing helpful anyway," she said, more firmly. "Really, all it said about itself was it needs the moon."

He gave her a long look, but nodded. He took her hands and held them out, glancing over her. "You're alright then?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," she shrugged and allowed herself to be pulled into a loose embrace. She rested her head on his shoulder and let out a breath. "How 'bout you?"

"Hmm?" He looked down at her, looking for all the world as if he were actually paying attention to her words and not a bit of mind to her proximity.

"You okay?" She repeated.

"'Course," he nodded. "Always alright, me."

"Liar," she nudged him. "Though...I gotta say...werewolf? Top of the line date."

"Do me best," he grinned at her. He glanced past her, to where Queen Victoria was watching them. "You, Your Majesty? Not hurt are you?"

"No," she replied softly.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am," Sir Robert's voice came quietly from behind her. "It's all my fault. I should've sent you away. I tried to suggest something was wrong; I... thought you might notice. Did you think there was nothing strange about my household staff?"

"Bald, athletic blokes and a wife gone away?" The Doctor shrugged, allowing Rose to slide from his grasp. "Not my place to judge."

"Is it funny to you, sir?" Victoria's voice was sharp. "This...this creature amuses you?"

"Not particularly," he shook his head. "Just a point of interest, really."

"Interest? What is it then, which you find so fascinating? What is that creature?"

"Lupine wavelength haemovariform," he answered, a bit smugly. "Might as well do to call it a werewolf though. Same principle."

"And what does that mean?" Her chin raised defiantly. "A creature from beyond? A spirit? What magics do you toy with, Doctor?"

"Not magic," he corrected. "Science, Your Majesty. Just something from another world, tryin' to take over this one. Like convertin' the Romans to Christianity; once they had the Emperor it was easy."

"I do not believe this," her voice shook slightly. "These things cannot be."

"Now don't do that," the Doctor frowned. "You're ruler of one of the greatest Empires in the history of the world, I know how clever you are. You wouldn't still be alive if you weren't, and this is just disappointing."

"Clever?" Victoria glared at him. "What has this to do with cleverness? Shall cleverness defeat the beast?"

He paused, crossing to bookshelf nearest the door; he picked up a large tome and hefted it slightly in his palm. "Oh, yes," he grinned. "Absolutely."

* * *

Books were piled on every flat surface, half of them opened and stacked upon one another – relevant pages bookmarked and noted.

Sir Robert's late father might have been brilliant, but he had hidden his research well – the fiction deeply disguised the reality. Half a dozen Gothic novels hid a single history of the region, and a dozen more children's fairy tales before the Doctor found the volume that held the key.

"Somethin' crashed," he laid the book open atop the pile. "Spaceship, or close enough."

"'In the year of our Lord, 1540,'" Sir Robert read aloud. "'Under the reign of King James the Fifth, an almighty fire did burn in the pit.' That's the Glen of Saint Catherine just by the Monastery."

"Must've spent years growin' itself back," the Doctor mused. "The host would've died in the crash, it transferred itself to the nearest human and spent a couple centuries gettin' strong enough to take full control."

"But, three hundred years?" Rose questioned, dubiously.

"Oi, how long did it take you lot to stop swingin' from trees? I don't think you should be commentin' on the pace of evolution."

"But," Sir Robert attempted to bring them back on track. "Why does it want the throne?"

"The Empire of the wolf," Rose murmured. "'S what it said."

The Doctor placed his hands flat on the table, looming intently. "The Victorian age of technology," he winced. "Steam-powered trips to the moon, coal-driven space stations. Paradox, end of the world."

"Just means we gotta stop it," Rose pointed out.

"Sir Robert," the queen stood again, clutching her small handbag. "If I am to die here -"

"Don't say that, Your Majesty," he begged.

"I would destroy myself rather than let that creature infect me, but that's no matter. I ask only that you find some place of safekeeping for something far older and more precious than myself."

"Fine time to worry 'bout jewellery," the Doctor muttered.

"This is far more than jewellery, Doctor," Victoria replied calmly. She undid the clasp of her bag and pulled forth her treasure – a large, perfect diamond.

"Is that -" Rose shook her head. "That's the Koh-I-Noor!"

"Beautiful," the Doctor breathed.

"Given to me as the spoils of war," Victoria took a deep breath. "Perhaps its legend is now coming true; it is said that whoever owns it must surely die."

"Sort of the definition of heirloom," the Doctor glanced at her. "Probably got more to do everyone realizin' how much easier it is to get a beautiful diamond off the dead than the living." He held out his hand, cradling the gem gently as Queen Victoria handed it to him.

"How much is that worth?" Rose marvelled, leaning over his shoulder.

"Oh, 'bout the combined wages of the planet," he paused and grinned. "For a week."

"Good job my mum's not here. She'd be fighting the wolf off with her bare hands for that thing."

The Doctor had a silly smile on his face, earning himself a sharp jab in the ribs. "Oi, did I say a word?"

"You were picturing my mum being eaten by the wolf – don't deny it!"

"Wasn't gonna," he grinned. She sighed and rolled her eyes. Sir Robert began to pace, twisting his hands nervously and muttering to himself.

"Not a bit of a risk, bringin' it with you?" The Doctor raised an eyebrow.

"My annual pilgrimage – I'm taking it to Helier and Carew, the Royal Jewellers at Hazelhead. The stone needs re-cutting."

"Oh, but it's perfect," Rose breathed, still staring at it.

"My late husband never thought so."

"And that's the truth," the Doctor nodded, prodding the jewel gently with one elegant finger. "Prince Albert thought it wasn't shiny enough, cut is near in half by time he was done."

"And he died with it yet unfinished," the queen murmured, her eyes suspiciously soft.

The Doctor frowned, shaking his head. "Lots of unfinished business around here," he said finally.

"What?" Rose plucked at the sleeve of his jacket. "Doctor? You've got your 'I'm figuring it all out' face on, what'd you figure out?"

He grinned at her and tossed the stone back to the Imperial monarch. "Oh, lots of things, Rose!" He spun and stared at Sir Robert. "Right, your father – he knew about all this, knew about the wolf planning to trap Her Majesty."

"I – I suppose he did," Sir Robert admitted.

"And if he knew, bein' such good friends with Albie," he ignored the queen's huff of outrage. "Would've told him, would've _planned_ for it!" He grinned and threw his arms in the air. "It's all a trap!"

"I'm aware of that!" Victoria snapped angrily. "Did you think me ignorant to the manner in which I was lured here?"

"Not for you, Your Majesty," the Doctor leaned over the table again. "For the wolf. Your husband wasn't trying to perfect the diamond, he needed an excuse to travel up here without you. To plan with Sir Robert's father, to figure out how to stop it!"

"You think it's got somethin' to do with why it won't come in here?" Rose was mirroring his pose across the desk. "Maybe it's scared?"

"Nope," he grinned. "No idea what that is. This is about the Endeavour."

"The telescope?"

"Not a telescope, Rose!" He didn't move, but something about his presence began to hum with energy. "Too many prisms, I told you. But it'd be perfect to go the other way – amplifying. We just need to find the wolf and get it to the observatory."

"Um, Doctor?"

"I'm thinking, Rose," he stared at the pile of books.

"Really, Doctor -"

"Hush!"

"I don't think we have to worry about step one."

He looked up, frowning at her. "What?" She wasn't looking at him; he followed her gaze to the high glass ceiling and the unearthly beast crawling across it. "Ah." There was a long pause as they stared up at it. "Right, back to plan A."

As cracks began to spread across the strained glass, the party in the library were once again running.

* * *

Rose had gained a good deal of respect for Lady Isobel. Beyond her _excellent_ timing – rescuing the party from the wolf just as it was about to have a Rose Tyler-shaped dinner – but she was also remarkably clever.

"Mistletoe!" The Doctor beamed. "Fantastic, so that's what the carvings were about! Gotta stop discounting anything around here, all tied together."

"What carvings?" Rose was still glancing warily after the creature, chewing her bottom lip nervously.

"Library doors, both of'em," he replied. "Carvings wouldn't be enough, might've been a clue though. Must be what kept it out of the room."

Sir Robert, for his part, was simply embracing his wife. "You have to get back downstairs," he ordered, his voice shaking slightly.

"And you, you have to keep yourself safe," she murmured into his coat. He pulled away and met her eyes unflinchingly.

"Isobel, you must go."

She nodded, tilting her chin up firmly. "Yes," she stepped back and beckoned the maids she'd brought with her. "Girls, come with me! Down the back stairs; back to the kitchen – quickly!"

The small group of women dashed off, and Sir Robert allowed himself only a moment to stare after his wife before he turned back to the Doctor. "The observatory is this way," he stated, once again leading them swiftly through the house.

The echoes of the wolf stirring pressed them onward until they reached the doors. The Doctor was shaking his head already, running his fingers along the door. "No carvings, no mistletoe. Looks like the wolf is welcome in here." He turned to Sir Robert as the sound of the wolf neared. "I just need a minute to get it done, got to block up the doors!"

"I'll buy you time," Sir Robert's voice was flat and calm. The Doctor stopped, met his eyes and nodded once.

"Good."

He stepped inside the observatory, leaving Sir Robert to lock it from the outside – and firmly closed his mind to any future sounds that might reach through the heavy wood. There was no time.

"Koh-I-Noor if you don't mind," he smiled grimly, reaching out his hand to the queen.

She clutched her bag close, eyes wide with fright. "For what purpose?"

"Oh, just a bit of savin' your life to do, no rush," he replied glibly.

Hesitantly she removed the diamond from her clutch and extended it toward him. He snatched it and ran across the room, summoning Rose as he went. She was set to work turning a great wheel, lifting as the Doctor pushed down the opposite side.

"Oh, great time for stargazing," Rose muttered, straining.

"Yeah, it it," the Doctor snapped back. Sir Robert's screams reached them then, and Rose hesitated, glancing over her shoulder at the doors and the shaking queen clutching at her rosary. "Rose, ignore it! We can't help him, just push!"

"I'm lifting!" She grunted. "How do we get it to work?"

"Gonna overload it with it's own wavelength energy," he informed her, just a bit smugly. "C'mon, Rose, just a bit more!"

"I know," she helped him slide the contraption the last few inches. "There!"

The door burst open and for half a moment they all froze – Queen Victoria was between the telescope and the beast, and they were both too far for even the Doctor to reach them. He hefted the diamond just once in his hand and bowled it toward the light beam.

"Down!" Victoria might not have heard the Doctor's command, but she fell, cowering, to her knees regardless. The prismatic reflection struck the beast full in the chest, slowly converting it back to the form of an unfortunate and tortured young human.

An unearthly, half-whispered request escaped the humanoid beast. "Make it brighter," it begged. "Let me go."

"No," the Doctor steadied Rose's hand even as she reached for the controls.

"Doctor?"

"No," he said again. "I will take you to my ship and then to the Shadow Proclamation. I'm not a judge and I won't be an executioner, I don't have that right. If you want to die, you can demand it of them."

The creature began to sob, but the prison of light held it steady.

* * *

"By the power invested in me by the Church and the State, I dub thee: Sir James Robert McCrimmon."

The Doctor looked as if he might well split his face in two from his smile. Ear-to-ear he grinned as Queen Victoria gently tapped each of his shoulders with a long, slim sword.

"By the power invested in me by the Church and the State, I dub thee: Dame Rose Marion Tyler."

If Rose giggled a little as the queen said her name, it could be excused for nerves. The Doctor reached over and took her hand as they returned to their feet and faced the infamous monarch.

"Thanks for that," he inclined his head toward Victoria. "That name was always meant for knighthood."

"Indeed, sir?" Her voice was tight. "To whom does it belong, Doctor?"

He chuckled, despite himself. "The books didn't lie about your brains, Ma'am."

"I imagine not," she pursed her lips. "Doctor, I have a final request to make of you."

He perked up, smiling. "Oh? Should be good," he added the last as an aside to Rose.

"Your world," her voice shook the slightest bit. "That world of demons and magic, of toying with the stars; can you keep it from us? Have you that ability?"

His face fell. "No," he answered, shortly. "No one can do that."

"Then I ask you, Sir," she took a deep breath. "Can you prepare us to fight ourselves? I will not be taken unawares again."

"I'm sorry," he did sound so. "I don't do that. I can't stay."

"I see," she nodded sharply. "Then Doctor, leave this place. You are no longer welcome here. You have done me a great service and I shall not forget it, but your world is a place of nightmares and I will not have it. May you someday remove yourself and your terrible child from this life, before you are both killed."

He blinked.

"Leave, Doctor, and never return." Her lips were pressed into a hard, thin line as they turned to leave. "And," they stopped, looking at her. "Dame Tyler?" Rose nodded hesitantly. "Regarding your questioning; no, I am _not _amused."

It did them very little service in Queen Victoria's eyes, but they did not stop laughing until long after they returned to the TARDIS.


End file.
